T: … knew it all along … that it would never … lied to myself … wanted to believe, even if it wasn’t true … I’m sorry, Josie, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorryimsorryimsorry….

J: … afraid you would go back to what you were … don’t Greg, promise me … can’t give up … have to believe….

T: why?

J: … stop believing, then you have nothing … dead … you can do better … a good handler … get off Skrakky find something … no life here … someone … you will, you will, just believe, keep on believing….

T: … you … love you forever, Josie … forever … how can I find someone … never anyone like you, never … special …

J: … oh, Greg … lots of people … just look … open …

T: (laughter) … open? … first time I ever talked to anyone …

J: … talk to me again, if you have to … I can talk to you … had enough lovers, everyone wants to get in bed with me, better just to be friends….

T: … friends … (laughter) … (tears) …

II

Promises of Someday

The fire had burned out long ago, and Stevens and the forester had retired, but Trager and Donelly still sat around the ashes on the edges of the clear zone. They talked softly, so as not to wake the others, yet their words hung long in the restless night air. The uncut forest, standing dark behind them, was dead still; the wildlife of Vendalia had all fled the noise that the fleet of buzztrucks made during the day.

“… a full six-crew, running buzztrucks, I know enough to know that’s not easy,” Donelly was saying. He was a pale, timid youth, likeable but self-conscious about everything he did. Trager heard echoes of himself in Donelly’s stiff words. “You’d do well in the arena.”